


All empty bottles

by Modern_Death



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types, Wiedźmin | The Witcher Series - Andrzej Sapkowski
Genre: F/M, Tumblr request
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-03
Updated: 2018-07-03
Packaged: 2019-06-01 20:07:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,069
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15150863
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Modern_Death/pseuds/Modern_Death
Summary: Request: Hello there if you remember me my another favourite cookie lives in a far far away land known best for white haired monster slayer - I sincerely hope you know what I mean - and goes around by the name of Vernon Roche, sometimes Emhyr var Emreis or Bloede Dhoine. 1. Take of his stupid hat please 2. Let him drink one too much vodka 3. Flashback to his childhood Please write something NOT about elves thank you





	All empty bottles

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Not about elves, haha. You got me there for a second, my lord.

Vernon drowned down another cup of vodka, his head rolling slightly back, eyes becoming heavy. Around him lied already empty bottles, nicely covering space on the ground as he sat by the dining table in dark house he got from Natalis when Nilfgaard won and recreated Temeria.

Vernon scoffed, drinking from the flask itself. His mind already wandering.

*

_Boy sat at the doorstep to his home, drawing with stick in the dirt by his feet. Another man came to see his mother, and like always, with sad smile on her face she told him to play outside. He might be only nine years old, but he knew what was happening in there, other kids reminded it to him at every chance they got. He was already sick of it, of pretending that their words didn’t sting him, that he was though enough to defend his mother and himself. He was sick of how they called him. ”Whoreson". While his mother only tired to keep them alive, to have money for bread._

_“Look, it’s the whoreson! Hey whoreson, your mother’s legs are open already!?” Boy closed his eyes, hoping that maybe if he tried enough, they might disappear._

_They didn’t and he knew it the moment when first punch landed on side of his head, making him dizzy and sending him to the ground. Kids laughed around him when he tried to get up and defend himself, but it was to waste when he got kicked in the gut. Another blows already coming his way, and all he could do was cover his head and hope that the man in his home would come out earlier and his mother might help him._

 

_He was 17 when his mother died. Some disease she caught while working. Vernon stayed by her side, chocking on his tears while she held his hand, smiling at him and promising that everything will be alright. She lied and they both knew that, yet he smiled at her through his tears, his long dirty hair covering his face, some sticking to his forehead, covered in sweat from high temperature in the room. It was first day of summer and sun shined at its full blast, but his mother was cold, and what could he do for her was to at least make her comfortable._

_“I love you” were her last words, when she closed her eyes of the last time, her last breath leaving her body only moments later._

_Vernon couldn’t take it then. He hugged his mother, crying in her shoulder and apologizing for ever being born, for making her work that way, for not being a son good enough to help her, so she didn’t have to do this._

_That night he drank until he completely passed out in muddy alley by the inn._

*

Vernon groaned, trying to get up from the table, but his legs gave up half the way and he dropped heavy back to the chair. Deciding that it was for nothing, he opened another bottle and put it against his lips, not bothering with the glass anymore. He would’ve ended as a drunkard a long time ago, probably die on Wyzima’s streets by age of 30 if it weren’t for Foltest and his fight for Temeria. But would he be thankful for what he did? Selling not only his soul, but every Temerian one to Nilfgaard and Emhyr. Was his choice good? Would Foltest agree with him or…

Groaning at his thoughts Vernon did only thing that would’ve help him get rid of them, he drank.

*

_Stumbling on his own feet Vernon caught himself on side of the building, trying to stay upwards, half empty flask in his hand. His hair were in his eyes, too long and dirty, he smelled like piss and wasn’t near ready to go back home yet._

_“Fucking king and fucking country, what normal person would like to live in such shithole?” Vernon liked up to some men, ready for a fight._

_“What the fuck did you say?” He said, his words blurred as he neared the man slowly, swinging from side to side._

_“What?”_

_“What the fuck did you say, you son of bitch!?” With that, he attacked the man, punching him in the jaw. Man groaned and straightened, reaching for his sword. In that exact moment Vernon noticed that man he attacked was a guard. He was fucked. But if e had to go that way, he may as well put on a fight_

_…_

_“Stand the fuck down!” Vernon looked up from puddle of his own blood, spitting some on the ground. Above him, guard straightened and took a few steps back from him. In his line of view came a person he couldn’t recognize, was it for buzz, dim light or his swollen face form guard’s punches, he had no idea, and he probably couldn’t care less. “What’s happening here?”_

_“Sir, I…”_

_“This fucking pig had hardihood to insult Temeria and her king.” Spat Vernon, trying to get up to at least punch the guard one more time, but he was unable to. Silhouette above him turned to the guard and waved his hand._

_“I will deal with you later. Take that man and bring him to me.”_

_Only next day he found out that the man who saved him was King Foltest himself._

*

“You had quite enough.” Vernon moved a little, his head rolling in direction of the voice behind him. Woman chuckled and came into his sight of view, slight bulge already visible from under her dress. Vernon smiled at her and pulled her on his lap, kissing her cheek and hiding his head in her neck, inhaling her scent.

“Glad you are home.” She laughed quietly, stroking his short hair.

“You did drank a little too much. I was home for an hour.” Rising his head from her shoulder he looked around, all empty bottles were cleaned of the table. Chuckling silently he trailed chaste, sloppy kissed up her neck.

“Have I told you that I love you?”

“Three or Four times… just today.” She caught his hand and pulled him up and to the bed, at which he instantly pushed her on her back and started disrobing her, his lips back at her neck.

“You are my love, right next to Temeria.” Rolling her eyes, she smiled, felling his lips on her pointy ear.

“I love you too, Dh'oine.”

**Author's Note:**

> Link to the oryginal post: https://moderndeathsblog.tumblr.com/post/173961230779/all-empty-bottles


End file.
